The Man That You Fear
by Cloud-1-3-5 and Ame Emi Dai
Summary: People change. Love changes people, life changes people, time changes people. As we grow weary from our toils through day to day life, our very being is eroded and moulded, the pains taking their toll on our fragile existence. And it can't be helped.


Just... thinking. About how things change, and how it can affect us. Just typing as I think.  
This is entirely off the top of my head, so don't expect an amazing storyline. There is no pre-thought to this at all. Just read it with an open mind, and - I hope - you'll maybe start to see things in a new way.  
Italicised passges are lyrics to the song 'The Man That You Fear' by Marilyn Manson.  
Thanks to Nek0-chan for all her thought-provoking fics. This one's for you!

*~*~*~*~*~*

People change.

Love changes people; life changes people; time changes people. As we grow weary from our toils through day to day life, our very being is eroded and moulded, the pains taking their toll on our fragile existence. No matter how slight, it happens to us all. Sometimes, we can't see it. Sometimes, we see it and don't care. Sometimes, we just don't understand it. The normality of it all blurs the meaning; dulls the blade. And as long as we can't feel the cutting edge, we can continue to pretend it isn't happening.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_Ants are in the sugar, muscles atrophied  
We're on the other side, the screen is us and we're TV_

*~*~*~*~*~*

But what of those who can see it? Those who can look into the souls of ourselves and see what we used to be? Those who can see what _others_ used to be, and what they are now? _They_ are the ones who change most of all. They are the ones who register it, and try to stop it. All they can do is deflect it, until they have convinced themselves that it isn't happening to them either.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_Spread me open, sticking to my pointy ribs  
Are all your infants in abortion cribs_

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Pathetic hikari."  
"I know."  
"Useless, feeble, _worthless_ hikari."  
"I know."

That was all Ryou could ever manage by means of reply nowadays. A soft, two-syllabled reply, spoken quietly and dejectedly, trying to allow his Dark's mood to pass, that he might not get hurt again.

"You're a waste of an existence, you know that?"  
"I know." Again, so soft.

The tomb robber Bakura stepped forward, a hand reaching out and wrapping round his hikari's throat, a snarl etched across his face. He walked Ryou back until he slammed into the wall, and stood glaring at him, watching intently for any sign of resistance. But Ryou didn't even try to pull the hand away. Instead, he simply stood still, his arms hanging limply by his side, his eyes glazed over. He might have already been dead, were it not for the fact that Bakura could feel his hikari's pulse hammering under his touch, the fear his eyes hid betrayed by the beating of his heart. Without another word, a sneer of disgust on his face, Bakura slammed Ryou into the wall once more before letting go and striding away.

Ryou slowly slumped to his knees, leaning forward and quietly gasping to get his breath back. He could feel his breaths shuddering softly, but he didn't cry. He knew that the angry face before him wasn't the real Bakura, the Bakura who'd lived so long ago. He'd simply fallen victim to the changes that befell everyone. And in the hope of winning him back, Ryou refused to fight, lest he push him further. No, Ryou would continue to be the pathetic hikari, to passively influence Bakura, in the hope that he might one day return to the way he was.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_I was born into this, everything turns to shit  
The boy that you loved is the man that you fear_

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Can he change back?" Ryou wondered miserably, whispering to himself. "Is there some trace of him left deep down, or has he been wholly changed? Can I really rescue him?"

"You should rescue yourself first."

Ryou's doe-brown eyes shot wide open, and he looked up with a start, quickly scanning the room. It had been Bakura's voice, but... he wasn't there now. Sighing wearily, Ryou climbed to his feet, making his way to the kitchen. He'd gotten off lightly this time, and he had jobs to do. Better they were out of the way now.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_Pray unto your number, asleep from all your pain  
Your apple has been rotting  
Tomorrow's turned up dead_

*~*~*~*~*~*

Outside of the room, Bakura whispered softly to himself. "Ryou... why won't you fight any more?" His fist clenched by his side. He hated what his hikari had become; what _he'd_ made him. Ryou used to be happy, cheerful. He used to smile. He used to laugh when Bakura and Yami argued. Now, he barely managed a sad sigh. It was as though he had given up on his own existence to try to save someone else. A sacrifice suited to his character, but one Bakura would never wish he went through with.

Bakura glanced down at his clenched fist, and saw his own blood seeping between the knuckles. Ryou was the last one he wanted to hurt. But when Ryou didn't fight back, it made him angry... and Ryou was the only direction he could vent his anger. He wanted Ryou to fight; to defend himself; to show some desire to go on. To show he wanted to live. But all he ever did was submit, as though he felt himself to be below value to anyone. He'd changed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_I have it all and I have no choice but to,  
I'll make everyone pay  
Then you will see  
You can kill yourself now  
Because you're dead in my mind_

*~*~*~*~*~*

Why can we never change for the better? Why, when we change, is it always a bad change, a change that hurts others around us? Why can we never be happy with who we are, and with those around us? Can't we let ourselves be? Is happiness so much to ask?

*~*~*~*~*~*

_The boy that you loved is the monster you fear_

*~*~*~*~*~*

Ryou's eyes filled with panic as he heard his Dark return. Somehow, he was sure that this time, he wouldn't get away so lightly.

Bakura stormed into the room and, barely breaking stride, slammed a fist into Ryou's stomach as he moved past him. The tenshi's eyes bulged, and he sank to his knees once again, a soft, drawn-out gasp emanating.

"Pathetic."

Still Ryou wouldn't defend himself. Bakura snarled loudly, grabbing a bread-knife from the collection hanging on the wall, and stood behind Ryou, a knee pressed between his shoulderblades. Snatching Ryou's hair with one hand, Bakura yanked his head back and held the knife to his throat, pressing with the tip. He screamed at Ryou, "Why won't you defend yourself?" and threw the knife away in exasperation when Ryou did nothing but whimper in reply. Kicking Ryou harshly in the ribs, Bakura stormed out, a scowl across his face, leaving Ryou lying on the kitchen floor, doubled up.

Slowly, the pain subsided, and Ryou got to his knees once more. "Bakura," he whispered, a tear this time trickling down his cheek. "How long can it take? What have your changes done to you?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

_Peel off all those eyes  
Crawl into the dark  
You've poisoned all your children  
To camouflage your scars_

*~*~*~*~*~*

Is it possible to go back to what we were? Is there any one of us who can see our own changes, and really act on them? Not deflect, but stop?

If there were, there wouldn't be any changes. Any and every event, no matter how small or insignificant, moulds your personality. Moulds you. Kicking a pebble down the street will alter your mood fractionally. That change could make the difference in a decision you make later. Kick the stone, take the path. Leave the stone, take the dirt track. We don't know how any events will shape the path we walk, nor do we know how they will shape us.

It's amazing we have a recognisable shape at all.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_Pray unto the spinsters  
Pray unto your fear  
Pray your life was just a dream, the cut that never heals_

*~*~*~*~*~*

Upstairs, Bakura sat on his bed, gazing blankly. He couldn't understand why he did those things to Ryou. Despite how it looked, he did care for the boy, and would give his life to save him. He'd never admit it, not even to himself, but it was the truth. Bakura looked down at the long scar on his forearm that served as a reminder that, once, he'd nearly had to.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_Pinch the head off, collapse me like a weed  
Someone had to go this far_

*~*~*~*~*~*

A sob suddenly burst forth from the boy, a sob of rage and frustration, and his eyes screwed up. Why did he do it? Why why why??? He got to his feet, kicking his bedroom door open, and began to head downstairs. He could feel his rage, and confusion, and self-loathing spiralling out of control.

Ryou was in real trouble this time, and he hated himself for knowing it.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_I was born into this, everything turns to shit  
The boy that you loved is the man that you fear_

*~*~*~*~*~*

"RYOU!" he bellowed as he entered their front room again.

The hikari, still winded from their last encounter, looked up. Seeing Bakura's rage, his heart sank, and he allowed himself to retreat into his shell again. Somehow, it was a trick he'd developed since Bakura had gotten worse - a necessary change. Within his head, he watched Bakura, almost as if his eyes were merely windows he was looking through. He watched the tenshi no kurayami [1] storm across the room, counting the paces til his body would be broken again. He watched and prayed, prayed that some little pebble might distract Bakura's foul mood.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_Peel off all those eyes  
Crawl into the dark  
You've poisoned all your children  
To camouflage your scars  
Pray unto the spinsters  
Pray unto your fear  
Pray your life was just a dream, the cut that never heals_

*~*~*~*~*~*

Bakura only broke his stride once while crossing the room. As each foot was placed, his temper soared, and he didn't watch where his feet were going. Which, literally, led to his downfall.

*~*~*The night before*~*~*

Ryou squealed in protest as another riceball hit his hair. "Bakura!" he gasped, brushing it out with his fingers and giggling.

Bakura smirked in reply, yet another riceball in his hand. "Do ya give?"

"No!" Ryou laughed happily. Nights that Bakura was supposed to wash the dishes always ended up like this, and Ryou always lost, a mess being made of the front room in the process, which gave him even more work. Not that he cared - it was worth it for moments like this, happy memories he could cherish. Ducking as another riceball came for him, Ryou stuck his tongue out. "Uncross your eyes Mouay! [2]"

Bakura gave Ryou a mock glare. "That's it!"

*~*~*~*~*~*

Bakura yelled as he felt his foot slide out from under him, and crashed down onto the floor, a mass of squashed rice under his foot. Evidently Ryou had missed a bit.

Ryou retreated even further into his mental hidey-hole, certain that Bakura would beat him even harder for his sloppiness.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_The world in my hands, there's no-one left to hear you scream  
No-one left for you_

*~*~*~*~*~*

When no beating came, Ryou crept a little further forward, peeking out of his eyes to see what was wrong. And the sight before him amazed him.

Bakura was still sat on the floor... and he was smiling. He was actually staring at the splodge of rice and smiling.

"B... Bakura?"

The addressed looked up, an amused grin crossing him as he saw the hesitation and confusion in Ryou's eyes. "Hai?"

Ryou blinked. "You're... you're not...?"

Bakura shook his head. "Iie, Ryou-kun. Change of heart." A genuine smile crossed Bakura's face, and Ryou relaxed a little. "...sorry for scaring you."

Ryou smiled softly in return. "Douitashimashite." [3]

Watching as Bakura picked up the mess - and Ryou knew exactly what he'd do with it - Ryou couldn't help smiling. Perhaps the changes that overcame Bakura didn't need reversing... they just needed moving on.

Perhaps change isn't such a bad thing after all.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Owari

*~*~*~*~*~*

[1] Tenshi no kurayami - angel of darkness  
[2] Mouay - a play on the Japanese for blind, ('moua') pronounced mo-a-ee  
[3] Douitashimashite - "you're welcome" 


End file.
